Pit Stop

He drove into her life.

There were a few dents in his doors and the exhaust pipe was about to fall off, but her front porch consisted of a broken, one-step stoop to a vintage trailer and a …

OCTOBER 1952

The air disturbs as her husband enters the room. Doffs his grey hat, holds it to his heart like a shield. The family beside her titters in admiration. He beams. Pulls on his little mustache. Alights on the …

It was a sea of people, swaying with wine.  Finger food passing along the crests like delicate foam crustaceans. A celebration of the poets’ ephemeral regard in this world of hard liquor, soft food and mountains to climb.

He bobbed …

The Body Remembers

Her head is a spaceship. Lift-off involuntary. Escaping backwards in time, without matter. Matter meaning skull and bones. Flesh and eyeball. Matter meaning mattering at all whether she makes sense of it.

Memory awakens with each wave …